


It's worth it, it's divine

by Snow_Falls



Category: The Poppy War - R. F. Kuang
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Feels, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Creampie, Explicit Sexual Content, Frottage, Hurt No Comfort, I can't stop thinking about, Introspection, M/M, Mild S&M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Smut, and I fucking knew there was something more to their relationship, in Dragon Republic, mild spoilers for Dragon Republic, that one scene between Chaghan and Altan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 19:24:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20953658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snow_Falls/pseuds/Snow_Falls
Summary: "There was a brief moment in which Chaghan really tried to think about this rationally. He didn’t need to be here. He was perfectly capable of turning, walking away, leaving this room and Altan, and not making the same mistake again. He could see it in his head, saw the scene from a third person perspective, in this way, it almost seemed like a possibility.But, Chaghan was never going to choose it. If he could, he wouldn’t be here in the first place."Or, introspection and Chaghan contemplates his relationship with Altan during sex.





	It's worth it, it's divine

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE MIND THE TAGS. 
> 
> Now that that's out of the way, who else is still broken up about these two? I KNEW there was something more to their relationship than what we were seeing in The Poppy War, and The Dragon Republic was like, "Yeah, bro, obvy." I feel like everyone really loves Altan, knowing full well that the way he treats others is not okay. And I wrote this with that in mind. 
> 
> It's been a while since I read The Poppy War and I can't remember details about sleeping arrangements, Altan had his own room and stuff, right? If not, he does now. =)
> 
> Also, I listened to so much [Cherry Wine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SdSCCwtNEjA) while writing this, because it's fucking perfect for these two, and really any relationship Altan is involved in. Please give it a listen, it's so good!
> 
> Please enjoy!

Sweet and right and merciful  
I'm all but washed  
In the tide of her breathing.

And it's worth it, it's divine  
I have this some of the time.

The way she shows me I'm hers and she is mine  
Open hand or closed fist would be fine  
The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine.

-Hozier, _ Cherry Wine _

  
  


Chaghan had to wait only a moment before he was told to enter. He opened the door and took a step inside.

Altan stood over a basin that sat on a small table in the corner of his room. He didn’t turn to look at Chaghan, just splashed water over his face, hair tied in a messy knot at the back of his head. Chaghan watched as the muscles of his back moved under scarred skin. He thought about walking in fully, closing the door behind him, but it felt better -- safer -- to keep it open. 

Altan picked up a small towel and dried off, turning to face Chaghan, still drying his face as he did. “Yes?” Altan raised an eyebrow at him, half his face hidden behind the towel, his voice slightly muffled. Altan Trengsin, fiercest warrior in Nikara, going about his nightly routine. 

“I was wondering how your arm was.” Chaghan replied. 

And, that was true. It was. 

“No,” Altan said, “you weren’t.” He folded the towel and reached behind himself to place it over the lip of the basin without looking. He walked over to his bed, picking up stray papers, reports -- probably -- letters, sketched out maps with heavy annotations, Altan scooped them all up indiscriminately, and stacked them on the bedside table. Then he sat on his bed, legs crossed, and looked at Chaghan, he had left space there, for him, Chaghan realized. 

“Well?” 

There was a brief moment in which Chaghan really tried to think about this rationally. He didn’t _ need _ to be here. He was perfectly capable of turning, walking away, leaving this room and Altan, and not making the same mistake again. He could see it in his head, saw the scene from a third person perspective, in this way, it almost seemed like a possibility. 

But, Chaghan was never going to choose it. If he could, he wouldn’t be here in the first place. 

Instead, Chaghan closed the door behind himself, carefully locking it before he walked over to sit beside Altan. He could tell the other young man wasn’t surprised by his decision at all. Of course he wasn’t. Altan would never have doubted that Chaghan would choose to stay. He was always choosing to stay, no matter what Altan did to make him leave. 

He didn’t sit facing Altan, rather he sat facing the same direction Altan did, toward the bare wall on the opposite side of the room. Neither of them spoke for a moment, the silence was almost comfortable, relaxed. Altan unfolded his legs, stretched them out over the edge of the bed and leaned back on his hands. From his periphery, Chaghan saw the movement of Altan dropping his head back, looking up at the ceiling. 

Chaghan took this opportunity to look at Altan. He had thought, surely, enough exposure to Altan would eventually make his effect on Chaghan wear off, he would get used to him. But every time he had a chance to really look at him, he was struck again by just how beautiful Altan was. 

People often thought of Chaghan as other, that he was something not of this world, and sometimes they said the same of Altan, but that was ridiculous. Maybe Chaghan did have one foot in the spirit world at all times, but Altan wasn’t like that. Being Speerly didn’t make him other, and it certainly didn’t make him monstrous, Altan was profoundly human, it was moments like these that made that painfully obvious to Chaghan. It was this reckless beauty that myth was made of, that poets struggled to describe, and epics immortalized as so incredible that the gods themselves sighed in longing just to look at it. Altan was the heartbreaking beauty of human mortality. 

The room was dimly lit. Whatever papers Altan had been looking over had been set aside in favour of sleep, and his reading lantern extinguished. The only light that burned was a small lamp by the bed, it cast the room in deep shadow, but it was still enough to see Altan clearly when he was sitting this close to him. Chaghan let his eyes roam over Altan’s exposed skin. He followed the pattern of scars, moles, and stretch marks, the beautiful tapestry of a body accustomed to war. The light played across his skin, deep brown that would burn hot to the touch. 

All at once Chaghan felt Altan’s gaze, and looked up at him. Altan was watching him, quietly observing Chaghan as he drank him in. Chaghan flushed, but he didn’t look away from Altan, not even when the other young man began to smile. 

“Did you see to the preparations I asked for?” Altan’s voice was quiet, but clear, he had begun to sit up slowly. 

Chaghan watched him move closer, and felt his heart beat hard in his chest. “Yes,” he said, evenly, “Everything’s ready.”

“Good.”

Altan was leaning into him, he had shifted closer, and Chaghan felt a familiar rush of emotions. Excitement, anticipation, desire, and fear. Always fear. Chaghan tried to slow his breathing. He felt distinctly like a cornered animal, knowing he was about to be devoured, but still staying perfectly still, prolonging the inevitable, clinging to these last few seconds like they might make any difference. 

He looked down at his hands pressed to his knees. 

“What are you thinking?”

That was a good question. What _ was _ Chaghan thinking? What was he thinking coming here? What did he think he was doing? All very important questions Chaghan had turned over in his mind time and time again and still had no good answers for. This wasn’t about his mission anymore, it had stopped being about that a long time ago. This wasn’t for anyone else but him. And, maybe that was an answer, but it was so pathetic that Chaghan still tried in vain to find another. 

“I’ve heard stories that old folk heroes were descended from dragons. It’s supposed to make them noble, but no one ever tells the stories about how that means someone had to fuck a dragon.”

Altan’s startled laugh shook the bed just enough for Chaghan to feel it, some of the tension between them eased. A few more seconds of bought time. 

“Ah,” said Altan, “To have the time to contemplate the great mysteries of the Nikara.” 

Chaghan looked up and met Altan’s dark gaze, he was very close. Chaghan had smiled a little at his own dumb joke, but the humour left him when he caught the expression on Altan’s face. His breathing came faster, and he couldn’t slow it this time. 

Altan lifted a hand to cup Chaghan’s jaw, and Chaghan had to bite his lip to stop from gasping, Altan’s skin was fever hot. Altan moved slowly, like he was drawing it out too, and whispered in Chaghan’s ear, lips just brushing the shell of his ear once. “_ This _ is why you came.” 

Chaghan shivered, but didn’t answer, and Altan didn’t seem to expect him to. He pressed his mouth to underside of Chaghan’s jaw, and Chaghan bit his lip harder. 

There was never any use lying, not to Altan, and especially not to himself. But, it seemed important, like he needed the pretense, it was easier than admitting the truth. Like it was somehow an accident that Chaghan had come here, had locked the door behind himself, and that Altan’s teeth were grazing the soft skin of Chaghan’s neck. 

Altan never seemed to worry about leaving marks on him, and Chaghan never complained, there was a sense of pride in knowing that there was something of Altan on him even when they were apart. Better than jewellery, fine clothes, or any tangible gift was the evidence of Altan’s connection to him littered all over his body. 

The sharp scrape of teeth sent a shock of pain through Chaghan, and the feel of Altan’s tongue soothing what he had just hurt sent pleasure flooding through him. Though, if Chaghan was being honest, the pleasure was there, whether or not Altan showed him any tenderness at all. 

Altan drew back, his breathing uneven as well, they looked at each other for a moment, and it was Chaghan who leaned in and kissed him. Just before he closed his eyes, he saw the corner of Altan’s mouth curve up. 

It reminded Chaghan of their first kiss. They had been arguing, in this same room. Altan swearing at him, and Chaghan faced him down without flinching, not even when Altan pushed him back against a wall and pressed his forearm to the base of Chaghan’s neck in a clear threat. Altan had loomed over him, his nose almost pressed to Chaghan’s, eyes blazing, and he had refused to look away. The pressure on his throat was just this side of painful, but Chaghan could feel it closer to tipping over with every second. 

Chaghan still wasn’t sure why he had done it. Was it because they were just so close? Or maybe it was because he hadn’t slept in days, or because there was an unparalleled thrill to pushing at someone who held your life in their hands. 

Whatever the reason was, Chaghan had surprised them both by suddenly tilting his head and pressing his mouth to Altan’s. 

It couldn’t have been more than a second, because they had both jerked back. Altan as far as he could while still holding Chaghan in place, and Chaghan with too much force that made him crack his head against the wall. He winced a little, but didn’t look away from Altan. Chaghan didn’t know what he had been expecting from Altan, but he didn’t think it would be utter surprise. Altan was caught completely off guard, the pressure on Chaghan’s throat had lessened, and the look on Altan’s face was so comical Chaghan could have laughed. 

They stared at each other for long moments. As if both of them were unsure what to do, but knowing the next movement would lead to something definitive, and uncertain of what they wanted that to be. 

The stalemate finally broke when Altan took Chaghan’s face in his hands and brought his lips crashing down on his mouth. 

From there it had been not so much like falling, but hurtling into each other. Deliberately colliding together again and again, with no consideration for the damage they did in this reckless collision. Neither of them seemed to take the time to examine their foundations for cracks, probably because they both knew what they would find, and there was no use in trying to fix something that was beyond repair. It was better to just ignore it for now, one day they would have to face the consequences of all this destruction, but for now it felt almost like healing every time they fell apart together. 

Chaghan was pressed into the bed now, Altan’s weight bearing him down, his fine boned wrists in Altan’s unforgiving grip, held up over Chaghan’s head. He was trapped in a prison of his own making. 

Everything about Altan was hot. His kisses were all taking, and Chaghan would give until there was nothing left, until Altan had consumed everything in him and they were melded together. Altan’s tongue in his mouth slid in time with their hips, both of them mindlessly seeking friction, falling back into familiar rhythms. 

Altan was pressed between Chaghan’s legs, without any hesitancy they had fitted together like this. Both of them kissing frantically, like this was their last chance to, and when you were part of the Cike, that wasn’t an exaggeration. Altan was very slowly going mad, had been going mad for some time, Chaghan could see it as clearly as he could see the red in Altan’s eyes, the strong set of his jaw, and the scars along his body. Altan was on borrowed time, and this, whatever this was, was also finite. One day soon it would end, in death or in madness, and Chaghan wasn’t sure which was worse. It was lose-lose-lose. 

Altan finally let him go, and Chaghan felt the rush of blood come back into his numb fingertips. The feeling of relief was replaced by urgency as Altan began to tug on his clothes. Chaghan sat up and began to undress. They were both graceless and clumsy, their movements too hasty, but every second they weren’t touching was unbearable. Chaghan’s hands shook as he pulled his pants off, he heard Altan make an impatient noise and felt a sharp tug on the garment that almost made Chaghan fall backward. 

Altan caught him, and then pushed him back anyway. Chaghan bounced on the bed once, and then felt the searing heat of Altan’s skin pressed to his own. Chaghan exhaled shakily, and didn’t have a chance to catch his breath before Altan was kissing him again. They began to move together once more, this time without the impediment of clothing, Altan closed one burning hand around both their cocks and began to work it up and down. 

The sounds Chaghan made were lost in Altan’s kisses, and he was burning up too. Altan began to thrust against him, and Chaghan dug his fingers into the scarred skin of Altan’s back. It was just too fast, just too harsh, and just too much. 

Chaghan was so close already. 

“Wait - “ He managed to choke out, but Altan either didn’t hear him, or he ignored him, because he kept going, and Chaghan’s mouth fell open in a soundless cry. He shook, seeing spots explode across his vision, feeling distantly as Altan bit at the base of his throat, and hearing the rush of blood in his ears as pleasure overtook him. 

He lay breathing hard as he slowly came back to himself. Chaghan realized that Altan had stopped moving. He hadn’t come yet, and instead of following Chaghan’s rise into ecstasy, he was watching him. He was leaning back on his knees, hands braced on either side of Chaghan’s head, and as Chaghan watched, Altan deliberately brought his hands down. Fingers traced lightly over his face, his slender neck, and stopped at the base of his throat. Altan’s thumbs fit perfectly in the dip of Chaghan’s collarbone, and the effect of pressure there was instant. 

“I could kill you,” Altan said, no hint of the harsh way he had been panting just a moment ago, his tone even. 

Chaghan met his gaze, ever unflinching. He couldn’t be quite as even, his voice was breathless and a little hoarse from Altan’s grip. “You could,” he agreed. 

_ I’d let you. _

Chaghan didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to. It hung in the silence, and filled the space between them. This, more than anything, terrified Chaghan, he should want to fight back, he should want to resist, but when Altan’s grip tightened Chaghan only fisted his hands into the sheets underneath him. Altan couldn’t just kill Chaghan, he could destroy him. 

When Altan released him Chaghan was trembling. Altan shifted back slightly and brought his mouth down to Chaghan’s chest. 

Altan was not a gentle lover. It was like Altan reached out with the intention of being gentle, but lost his way by the time he made contact, so that his touches bruised, and his kisses stung, but it all felt so _ so _good. 

Altan took him in hand again, pumping relentlessly as he pressed his mouth to every inch of Chaghan’s skin he could. It took longer this time, and Chaghan was more sensitive, but Altan didn’t let up. Soon the friction became too much, and though Chaghan was hard and straining, the touch began to hurt. Chaghan couldn’t help the small whimper that escaped him. Altan lifted himself up abruptly kissing Chaghan hard, and just as abruptly slid back down his body, this time bending his head over Chaghan’s painfully hard cock. 

Chaghan brought his hands up to smother the cries that he couldn’t help. Altan didn’t do this often enough for Chaghan to be used to it, if that were even possible, and when his tongue swirled over the head, pressing into the slit, Chaghan’s body curled up involuntarily. 

Altan had asked him once if his sister would feel this, and Chaghan hadn’t answered. He never asked Qara if she did, though he suspected he knew the answer. She never met his gaze after he came back from his time in Altan’s bed. 

But, Qara was the last thing on his mind now, which was a testament to how much Altan consumed his thoughts. He burned away anything in Chaghan that wasn’t focused on Altan, he was only a body seeking pleasure, and it could only be given to him by one man. 

It was wrong that he should be here, dangerous beyond words, but Chaghan was already in it, and so he might as well stay. He may as well be damned for fucking Altan a hundred times if he would be damned for just once.

Pressure was building low in his abdomen, and when Altan pressed his fingers into Chaghan’s slender hips, he came. 

Chaghan was dimly aware that Altan was doing something, felt him move, but his brain was slow on the uptake. He opened his eyes and saw Altan sitting on his heels, concentrating on something in his hands. Chaghan blinked, his orgasm addled mind drawing a conclusion only when he heard the faint pop of a bottle unstoppered. 

“Altan - “ He tried, but Altan was already picking him up, turning him so Chaghan lay on his stomach. He thought briefly, a little absurdly, about the fact that he was dirtying Altan’s sheets, but then he felt the press of Altan’s oiled finger into him and that thought vanished. 

It was too soon, he was still too sensitive, “Wait - “ Chaghan managed, and broke off on a choked gasp. Chaghan gritted his teeth and pressed his forehead against the mattress unable to do anything but _ feel _this. 

It wasn’t just about the sex. Chaghan wanted that too, but more than anything he wanted _ Altan _, and in these moments, when all of Altan’s attention was on him, it was like he had him. On the days they had time to lay together afterward, Altan sprawled out, body languid, open, and Chaghan kissed him, soft and slow, he thought Altan felt it -- felt the emotions that stirred in Chaghan’s heart every time they touched. Beyond the loyalty that bound them, and beyond the fear that drew them together, there was an aching tenderness that Chaghan tried to communicate with every caress. He felt such a profound yearning in Altan that he wanted so badly to fulfill, he felt his sorrow, his rage, and his pain, and Chaghan couldn’t soothe them with his words alone. Altan knew only how to take, and Chaghan wanted to give. He wanted to fill that gaping hole in Altan’s heart with himself, quench the fire that threatened to consume Altan by throwing himself on the brazier, smothering the flames. 

Chaghan was probably going crazy too, because he really thought he could do it. 

Altan was pressing three fingers into Chaghan now, and he muffled helpless little gasps into Altan’s pillow. Altan had worked him passed pain and into pleasure again, he curled his fingers and Chaghan shuddered, he did it again and again until Chaghan was teetering on the edge, and then Altan withdrew. Chaghan’s body went slack when Altan wasn’t there supporting him, his limbs shook, Chaghan was exhausted, but he wanted this too much now to protest. 

He felt Altan rub himself against him, and Chaghan’s cock throbbed in response. Chaghan bit his lip as he waited, if he didn’t stop himself he was probably going to beg Altan to fuck him, and he might not just to be contrary. 

The first push was slow and exquisite. Chaghan gripped the sheets as he felt Altan slide smoothly in. The first time they had done this had been strange, had happened so fast that by the time Chaghan really processed what was happening, it was over. It was one thing to press against Altan’s body, and something else entirely for Altan to enter him. Chaghan craved this connection in particular, the weight of Altan over him, the sweat of his body, the sound of his breathing in Chaghan’s ear, and the feeling of his hard cock moving in and out of his body, it was like a different kind of spiritual experience, divine. 

Altan made little noises every time he snapped his hips. The bed shook under Chaghan and he clung to the fabric in his hands as the only anchor he had while swept up in this tide of feeling. Altan was fire, and he was consuming him, Chaghan was a fool to think he could ever sate him, fire knew no slacking. 

Chaghan muffled his sounds as best he could into his hands, he was gripping the sheets so hard his hands would ache later. Right now he didn’t feel it, but he would be sore all over tomorrow. It was a strange thought, knowing tomorrow he would walk around with his usual dignity, his detachment in front of the others, knowing that only hours before he had been covered in his own cum and fucked into Altan’s bed. 

Altan was moving faster now, his thrusts harder and Chaghan could feel the tension in him, Chaghan was close too. He wished he could see him, watch pleasure overtake him, transform his face, and paint him in passion of an entirely different kind than what Chaghan saw on the battlefield. 

Just as he thought that, Altan suddenly slowed, and without warning withdrew. Chaghan made an involuntary sound at that, wondering if he really was going to have to beg after all. But, then Altan’s hands were on him, turning him over, and Chaghan blinked in the dim light. Altan was still breathing hard, his gaze just as searing, but he pressed Chaghan back with almost gentle hands. 

He pushed back in, on his knees now, and gripped the back of one of Chaghan’s bent knees, his other hand holding onto Chaghan’s hip with bruising force. He resumed his rhythm and both of them were lost to it once more. 

Chaghan pressed his hands to his mouth once more, and struggled to keep his eyes open. He wanted to look at Altan, watch him struggle with control, and see the exact moment he lost that battle. Altan might burn him alive, and it would be the sweetest agony. 

Altan let go of Chaghan’s knee, pulled Chaghan’s hands away from his mouth, and bent to kiss him. 

Tongue and teeth clashed, they were uncoordinated and messy, it was too difficult to concentrate on kissing when their bodies were busy with something else. 

Chaghan wrapped his legs around Altan’s waist, and a moment later was surprised to feel Altan press his fingers between Chaghan’s. He pressed their joined hands into the bed and thrust harder, and this time Chaghan cried out without restraint. The sound was muffled against Altan’s mouth, but Chaghan couldn’t do anything to stop it now. The intense pressure building in him was threatening to burst with every hard stroke, and his world was reduced to the feeling of Altan moving desperately in and out. 

He felt, suddenly, emotion well in his chest, words crowd in his mouth. He wanted to tell Altan -- he needed him to _ know _\-- If he opened his mouth, it would all tumble out, incoherently, nonsensically, it would burst out of him like water from a broken dam. 

What he would have said, Chaghan never got a chance to find out, because in that moment his climax hit, and words were lost to him. A wonderful deep heat swept through Chaghan's body, moving through him in time with his frantic heartbeat, and made him feel so good he thought he might die from pure ecstasy. Faintly, he could feel Altan reach his peak too, felt as pleasure shook itself out of him, so they were both caught in it together for just a moment. 

Chaghan felt his head swim, he very nearly passed out. As it was, he had to fight to stay conscious, he was shaking all over. He felt the weight of Altan’s body on him, and with effort, Chaghan opened his eyes. The dim room came into focus slowly, and Chaghan became aware of the fact that he and Altan were breathing in tandem. 

Finally, Altan lifted his head. His hair had come unbound at some point, and fell into his face as he got up, so Chaghan couldn’t see his expression. He winced a little as Altan pulled out, and then felt, with some pleasure, Altan’s cum spill out of him. That wasn’t a kink he would have thought he had until suddenly he had it. 

Altan rolled over and dropped down beside him. They were still breathing unevenly, but Altan was clearly recovering faster. Chaghan would take longer to recuperate, which worried him, sometimes he very decidedly wore out his welcome. He was in no shape to argue with Altan right now if he tried to kick him out, even though Chaghan’s utter exhaustion was all Altan’s fault. 

They just lay there for a moment, their arms pressed together, only because Altan’s bed was too narrow to give them any more space. 

When Altan did speak, it wasn’t to kick him out, “Do you want water?”

Chaghan turned his head to look at him, Altan was looking back. He must have looked confused because Altan repeated, “Water. I’m thirsty.” Then he got up and went over to pour himself a cup of water. Chaghan felt the precariousness of his position. Altan’s emotions always ran high after sex, and it was easy to anger him. But, when Altan drank down his own cup, he poured more water and brought it over to Chaghan. He sat on the bed and proffered it to him. Chaghan blinked, and then scrambled to sit up. 

It wasn’t easy, his limbs were weak and shaky, and it took an embarrassing amount of effort to push himself up, but when he finally did he took the cup from Altan and said quietly, “Thank you.”

Altan got up again as Chaghan slowly drank. This time he picked up the towel he had used to dry off his face, and came back to the bed. Chaghan watched him, but Altan didn’t meet his gaze. He was hesitating, Chaghan realized, and he held his breath, not daring to disturb the moment. 

Coming to a decision, Altan reached out. He began to clean the mess off Chaghan. Chaghan dropped his arms to his sides, still holding the cup, and sat still, letting Altan minister to him. He had never done this before. It was not unlike tending to battle wounds, but cleaning an injury, and cleaning someone off after sex were wildly different. Yet, it was familiar, and Altan _ could _be gentle. The fear that came with Altan’s touch receded, but Chaghan knew it hadn’t gone far, it was just within arm's reach. For now, Chaghan concentrated on this rare moment of sheer intimacy, of pure affection. The rush he got from that was better than any high he had experienced. 

When he was done, he hesitated again, and then awkwardly held out the towel for him. Chaghan took it, blushing a little when he realized why he was being handed the towel when his stomach was clean. Altan helped him stand, held him in strong arms as his legs trembled, and Chaghan did his best to clean off. That done, Altan took the towel from him, and threw it in a basket in the corner already piled with other soiled towels and cloths. 

Chaghan drew back just a little, and they looked at each other. Chaghan felt his heart ache. 

“You should go get some sleep.” Altan said in a low voice. It betrayed no emotion. 

There was nothing Chaghan could say to that, he swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. Slowly, he got dressed, feeling Altan’s eyes on him. They didn’t speak, and Altan didn’t move to help him again. Chaghan took that time to compose himself. He had his carefully smooth expression back in place. He shouldn’t hope for the impossible, when he didn’t get it, it would only be his fault for deluding himself. 

He caught Altan’s gaze again when he was done dressing, but this time he didn’t hold it. Instead Chaghan looked away, and turned to go. He unlatched the door and then opened it, but before he could walk out, he heard Altan’s voice. 

For one heartstopping moment, Chaghan thought he might ask him to stay. But what Altan said was, “Good night.”

Chaghan resisted the urge to look at Altan, whatever expression he was wearing, Chaghan didn’t think he could handle it. “Good night.” Then, he walked out, and closed the door behind him. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I imagine this takes place just before Rin arrives to join the Cike, when I think Chaghan and Altan probably fight more. I also think their physical relationship probably backslides into more physical abuse as Altan goes crazy/feels the pressure of leadership. Which I don't know if I could handle writing, this is as far as I go for now. 
> 
> Anyway, talk to me about these boys and this book!!! It's soooo good but no one I know is reading it! 
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr](nightofviolet.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/snow_falls4) ^^


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